


i think that we are gonna be friends

by whatever_you_want



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caregiver!Jack, Caregiver!Phil, Friendship, Gen, Jealousy, Little!Leo, Littles Are Known, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, caregiver!grant, classifications au, good guy Brock Rumlow, good guy Jack Rollins, little!Clint, little!brock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatever_you_want/pseuds/whatever_you_want
Summary: When Phil goes on the Bus, Clint spends his time playing with Leo who he doesn’t exactly get along with. So Phil finds another Little to join them.Clint isn’t sure how to feel about Brock Rumlow.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Leo Fitz & Grant Ward
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	1. make new friends

**Author's Note:**

> so I recently started to reading about the good guy versions of Jack Rollins and Brock Rumlow and I really fell in love so please take some self indulgent crap I wrote. 
> 
> It’s not really connected to the series, more of a one shot for me to write cuteness lol.

Every few months Phil had to go on the Bus and Clint loved it. But Clint didn’t always like everyone there. Playtime with another Little was important and it gave Phil adequate time to fulfill his duties while Clint got to have fun. Usually. 

Weekends went well, Leo and Clint would be best buddies and by the time they grew a bit too competitive or argumentative it was time to leave. But with the long journeys, things went… differently. Grant couldn’t ever put a finger on when things started to turn from joyful sharing and hugs to screaming and fits but without fail, play dates turned to disaster. So both Phil and Grant had their fair share of concern at three month long venture. 

It was the longest by far, and the only trip where they expected both boys to be both Big and Little which could either be disastrous or fix all concerns. There was an age gap between them, Leo as a Little was between five to seven while Clint was two to four. Usually Leo took to him as a ‘big brother’ in the beginning and was eager to help Clint and whoever’s Daddy was looking over them. Splitting responsibility was the most productive way to manage two Littles and everyone else on the ship was willing to help. 

Clint knelt down, unpacking his bag in their quarters. The sheer size of the Bus always impressed him, even after his umpteenth boarding. Phil was busy on his phone already in work mode. He felt safe being Little here, he trusted the Agents. 

“I don’t even use this stupid thing,” Clint’s face colored when he drew out the purple Nook. 

Phil hummed and glanced over before he smiled. “It settles you,” he replied, as if it wasn’t embarrassing for him to use a pacifier when Leo definitely did not! 

“I don’t need it.” He shoved it to the bottom of the bag, pushing it into the storage space under his bed. Sleeping separately from Phil when Big wasn't an easy transition but the beds were too narrow for two bodies. “‘m not that little.”

“Not usually,” Phil agreed, a bit indulgently. Clint always leaned closer to two than he did to four but Phil wasn’t going to upset Clint by telling him that. “I thought you were unpacking?”

“I did.” Clint crossed his arms, nudging the canvas bag adorned with purple and blue arrows further out of sight. “Got all my clothes in the dresser. And I’ll bring my bow down when May is back.”

“All of your things, Little Bird. This is your time to relax, yes?”

Clint’s cheeks colored. He knew there was a dual purpose to these trips but easing himself into that mindset wasn’t as simple as flipping a switch and he was excited to see everyone. “I’ll do it tonight.” He gave Phil his best smile, toothy and promising. “Promise!”

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d do it now,” Phil replied evenly. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Clint’s bottom lip pushed out, wanting to argue. “But Phil — ” he protested as Phil pulled the bag out, setting on top of his purple comforter taken from home. “Wait, ‘m not Little!”

“I know that,” Phil pulled out Chirp, setting him carefully against the pillow. Clint worried his bottom lip as he was jostled a bit. “But it’s good to be ready. You always feel Little after dinner with everyone.”

Sometimes Clint wished Phil didn’t know him so well. Especially when Leo was going to call him a baby like last time! He wasn’t excited to see him, even though he told Phil he was. Leo was nice usually but he got mean too! Phil set Blanket down and pulled out his cups. 

When he pulled out the diaper bag, he asked, “Do you need a change?” which made Clint blush bright red and glance toward the door. He didn't want anyone to know he had to wear a diaper when he was Big too! 

“No,” Clint shuffled away from him which was a dead giveaway from Phil. “You don’t gotta check or anything.”

Phil contemplated it a moment, well aware that it was a touchy issue with Clint lately. Wet changes were easier to coax him out of than messy ones but messes were far easier to notice. Even with the high quality diapers, decorated with cartoon puppies and kitties, still gave off a bit of a smell when close to Clint. It had to very wet to notice it straining against the fabric of Clint’s pants. 

“You don’t want a rash do you?”

Clint shook his head, shuffling back another few paces. Phil pursed his lips before slowly, regretfully turning away. Clint was Big right now, he had to be trusted to make his own choices. Once the bag was fully emptied Clint was anxious to look around see everyone. Dinner time was the catch up hour, everyone else busy with their own work. 

Skye was on a mission with Al and May until tomorrow afternoon and Clint knew that but he still was eager to see everyone else. “I need to set up my office, Bug.”

“I’m Big,” Clint’s nose crinkled at the pet name but he stood eagerly from his perch by the window. They were still grounded until this evening. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” Phil set a box of non-breakable knick knacks in Clint’s outstretched arms. “Together I’m sure it’ll be a breeze.”

Clint set down the box on the big oak desk and looked around the empty room. He remembered playing in the corner quietly when he threw a block at Leo and Daddy got upset. He also remembered missing Daddy so much that he had cried until he got to sit on his lap while he type-type-typed. 

“Where do you think this one should go?”

Clint looked at the lumpy clay mug, the one he made with Steve ages ago that was chipped from Clint dropping it during a breakfast-in-bed mishap when he was far too Little to be doing such things. 

“I can’t believe you still have this.” Clint was flattered, he couldn’t help but be — pleasing his Caretaker was all he could ever ask for. 

“I cherish all the beautiful things you give me.”

The mug was a far cry from beautiful especially where the paint had run together into ugly blotches of brown. Still his cheeks tinted pink and he set it gingerly beside the little metal globe and the thingy that swirled he forgot the name of. 

“What is this?” He tapped his fingers against it, halting its movements for a moment before it continued on. 

“The Swinging Sticks,” Phil loved Clint’s inquisitive nature, even if they were often the same question. “You always seem to like it. Maybe we should get one for your work desk?”

“I dunno how much I’d see it, I spend most of my time at your desk.” Clint watched it go round and round before he reached into the box. “Fred!”

“Indeed,” Phil took the succulent and carefully it set on the window sill beside Jade the jade plant. Clint had named them both and, at home, cared well for their little plants. “What’s next? You’re so good at this.”

Clint totally meant to tell him that he wasn’t Little so he didn’t need to be indulged with such praises but they felt so nice he just smiled to himself and pulled out the next item. Phil’s fountain pen. The pen he wasn’t supposed to touch because it was his most favoritest pen ever! 

“I will take that,” Phil set it safely beside his laptop and Clint snatched up the next item, squawking in excitement as the long lost Squish. 

“Squish! You founded him!” The little bead filled pink and blue octopus was soon smooshed to Clint’s chest. 

Phil had found Squish in the bottom of his drawer and he had a feeling Little Clint had hid him there and forgotten. He wasn’t supposed to be Phil’s office alone but Clint was never one for following rules. Clint seemed smaller now, or was heading that way as he looked at the small toy in awe. 

“He was hiding in Daddy’s desk,” Phil didn’t mind nudging him alone. “I wonder how he got there.”

“Maybe he swam.” Clint held Squish up above his eye level and squinted. “Did you hide on me? He says yes.”

“I see,” 

Phil wanted to give Little Clint a welcoming squish of his own but didn’t get a chance to. Clint threw his arms around Phil with loving adoration shining in his turquoise eyes. 

“You founded him! Thank you.”

[oOoOo]

Clint was very excited to see his Shield friends. He wanted to see Jemma and Al and Skye and Daisy and May and Leo and Leo’s Daddy Grant. He also wanted a dessert because the Bus has such yummy food. But Daddy had explained that Skye, May, and Al were on a mission and wouldn’t be home to the Bus until tomorrow. 

Clint wasn’t very good at being patient but Leo was Little too so they could play. He was sitting at the bench with his food set out neatly but he twisted around at Clint’s arrival. He waved joyously and tried to come see him but his Daddy wouldn’t let him. Phil took him Leo’s table and exchanged pleasantries while Leo waved at Clint. “You’re here! Daddy said you were coming. I got a new Lego set and NASCARs we play with.”

“I gotta farmset,” Clint said with just as much excitement.

Leo looked confused. “You always bring your farmset. Didn’t you bring any new toys?”

Clint drew back a bit. He didn’t ask for new toys cos…asking was bad. “I gotta farmer now,” Clint said, crestfallen. 

“Those are baby toys,” Leo announced. “Daddy I don’t want to play with baby toys!”

Grant quickly soothes him. “Hey now, what’s this about your toys?”

“Not my toys, Clint’s toys!”

“Leo,” his Daddy sounded much more stern now. “What did we talk about?”

“Being nice to Clint,” the Little crossed his arms looking moodily af his tray. “I’m not being mean though, Daddy. I was just saying that Clint plays with baby toys and I don’t wanna so we have to play with my toys. I’ll make sure he has fun!”

“Not baby toys,” Clint drew away, bottom lip wobbling dangerously. 

Leo was a meanie but usually he was nice at first. Clint didn’t like it one bit. Daddy came back with their trays and began to cut up his meat into teeny tiny cubes instead of the strips that Leo had. And when Daddy mushed up his peas, he whined in opposition. 

“What’s wrong Little Bird?”

Clint wanted to hide his face in Daddy’s side but he didn’t want to be a baby like Leo said he was. 

“Don’t gotta cut ‘em,” Clint’s fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He wanted to suck them. 

“Ah well, I like to make sure my favorite Little Clint doesn’t choke,” Phil lovingly brushed his thumb over Clint’s chin. “There now, bug. All set. Oh, wait a moment…”

Daddy left Clint alone on the bench looking down at his dinner, turned to tiny bits, and then at Leo’s tray where everything was only cut up a little bit. Leo didn’t stick his tongue out at him which was nice but it didn’t make Clint feel any better about being treated like a baby. 

Clint’s spirits elevated when his favorite purple cup was set down in front of him. He was certain that Leo hadn’t seen it before and he was excited to share it. “I gotta new cup,” Clint held it out proudly. “It doesn’t spill.”

Leo squinted at it. He was a big boy, much bigger than Clint who was just a baby and he didn’t need a special cup. He could use glass cups if he was careful. But he had to be nice, his Daddy said so. 

“I have a big boy cup.” Leo replied. “I don’t need a lid.”

Grant nudged his Little, a reminder that what he said wasn’t very nice. Leo squirmed away, picking up his fork. Clint was busy examining his cup with a small frown. He had thought it looked neat and that the no spill lid was very big for him. He looked at Leo’s plastic tumbler filled with milk almost to the top and was reminded that Leo was still bigger than him. 

“Eat your dinner.” Phil said giving the fork a pointed look. 

Leo, intent on being a good example setter (exactly as his Caretaker told him), ate his food with gusto which seemed to cheer up Clint. For dessert they had pudding cups but most of Clint’s ended up on shirt. It was a baby shirt in Leo’s opinion, blue with a bee on it that said ‘It’s a Bee-utiful Day!’. After dinner Clint was eager to play but Phil reminded him he’d had a very busy day and needed a bath before bed. 

“So do you,” his Daddy said making Leo frown.

Clint lost his frown the moment Phil stirred up bubbles in the little tub. It wasn’t nearly as roomy as the one back at the Tower but Clint didn’t seem to mind, selecting a purple rubber duck with a top hat appropriately named Sir Ducky and a boat to play with in the Quiet. 

Phil lovingly washed his blond hair and carefully put bubbles on the tip of Clint’s nose to make him giggle. He scrubbed each little toe until it was sparkly clean and then, after replacing his hearing aids, participated in a riveting tale of Sir Ducky battling the great waves to rescue the boat that had very, very important medicine on it.

Actually it sounded a lot like a mission they did just last month during a terrible storm on the pacific where a Shield vessel needed time sensitive galactic vaccines moved. Phil wondered how much of Big Clint was left when Little Clint took over and how much of Little Clint was there when Big Clint was operating. Moments like these made him want to hide Clint away from danger forever. 

When he was dried off and in his pjs, he eagerly climbed into his new bed and beamed at Phil. “Imma play with Leo ‘morrow, right Daddy?”

“That is the plan, pumpkin.” Phil had a book on his lap that Clint had selected from the five or so they had brought. “The three bears, hmm?”

“Too hot, too cold, jus’ right.” Clint jabbered with a bright smile. He could just about recite the words himself at this point but Phil didn’t mind the repeats. There was something comforting about it. 

“That’s right sweetheart.” Phil opened the book and let Clint gush over each page, fingers trailing over the illustrations excitedly. 

“Steve hassa quilt like that,” Clint told him when they got to the bed page. “An’ an’ an’ his bed is too hard!”

“Is it now? And what about Daddy’s bad?”

“Uh,” Clint drawled. “It’s...too soft!”

Phil feigned shock over that. Big Clint had said the same exact thing but he had adjusted. A childhood spent sleeping on pallets under a trailer had made everything feel too soft for a while. Big Clint also told Phil that pallets were more comfortable than the rock like bed Steve slept on. 

“Hm,” Phil tapped his chin. “I guess that means that your bed is…”

“Jus’ right!” Clint was meant to be winding down but Phil had The Lorax handy for that. 

By the time Phil was halfway through The Lorax, Clint was lying quietly, thumb edging toward his lips. As endearing as it was to watch him sleep while sucking on his thumb it was a habit that Phil worked tirelessly to break. Clint’s eyes were fluttering as Phil slipped the Nook between his lips and he picked up on it immediately. It bobbed slowly between his lips as he took deep sleepy breathes through his nose. 

Somewhere between the Lorax leaving and coming back to save the trees, Clint’s eyes slipped shut and his breathing slowed. Phil smiled fondly down at his little boy, heart swelling with adoration and love. He was thankful to have such a sweet, special Little in his life and despite any problems that may come up, knew he was lucky to be able to call him his. 

“Goodnight, little bird. Daddy loves you.” Phil whispered before he carefully removed his hearing aids and set them on the shelf in the alcove above the bed. 

Their quarters were small, two rooms with nothing more than a half curtain to separate them which was helpful on nights when Phil had an overwhelming amount of work to do and an overwhelming Little who needed his rest. The curtain helped block out the light from Phil’s laptop as he replied to a dozen emails before he too got ready for bed. 

[oOoOo]

Clint didn’t know that Brock Rumlow was a Little. So when he saw him the next morning, adamantly refusing Agent Rollins feeding him cut up pancakes, he was confused. 

“Phil, is that Rumlow?” Clint knew it was, even out of uniform there was no mistaking his hair cut and his scowl. “Commander Rumlow?”

“It is. And it’s rude to stare.”

Clint was Big, for the time being at least, so he was able to at least pretend he wasn’t gawking. “He’s a Little?” Clint whispered as they grabbed their trays.

“He is. They’re lending a hand on the Argentina op next week. I thought it’d be nice for you to have someone closer to your age to play with.” Phil said casually and Clint’s jaw dropped.

“What, you want me to play with him? I thought I was here to play with Leo,” Clint couldn’t keep the sulking out of his voice. 

“Leo will certainly join in. Grant and I thought that maybe someone else playing might lessen the fighting.”

“Leo is a dick,” Clint protested. “He never shares and he calls me a baby and he throws things!”

Phil hummed knowingly. Little Clint reported all of these things countless times but so did Little Leo. In Phil’s opinion they could be a whole lot nicer to each other. Hopefully the addition of another Little would achieve that. 

“Why don’t we join them for breakfast?” 

Without waiting for an answer Phil went over to their table. Clint trailed along behind. Brock was an excellent Commander. He ran ops like a Dom and Clint had sort of assumed he was one. Rollins being a Caretaker was a bit less jarring. On the missions with Strike that Clint was assigned to he noticed that Rollins was always looking out for the welfare of everyone. It didn’t make it any easier for him to wrap his head around however.

“Not gonna eat it and you can’t make me,” Brock growled as Phil set down his tray.

Immediately Brock stopped straining away from Rollins and instead tucked himself closer to him. Brown eyes found Clint and then narrowed distrustfully. 

“Agent Coulson,” Rollins set down the fork to offer his hand. “Sorry about the noise.”

“Don’t apologize. Clint has his moments when he refuses to eat.” 

Rollins looked at him and offered a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that Clint never got in the field and it made him feel oddly at ease. “Hello Clint.”

“Hi Agent Rollins.” Clint felt strangely shy himself.

“You can call me Jack.”

Brock kicked Clint under the table. It didn’t hurt as much as it caught him by surprise. “Don’t talk to my Daddy. Stupid head.”

Jack drew Brock away slightly, lips pressed in a thin line. “Hey now, I know you’re tired but that no way to act. Apologize.”

Phil glanced at him, worry wrinkled across his forehead but a look from Clint soothed him. He wasn’t hurt, just startled. Sparring with Rumlow was no easy feat and Clint ended up on his ass more often than Brock did. He had the smug confidence about him even when he offered a hand up but right now Clint didn’t see that side of Brock. He was seeing a very unhappy Little. 

“No.” Brock put both hands over his ears and closed his eyes. “Can’t see, can't hear, can’t say sorry. Can’t see, can't hear, can't say sorry.”

“He didn’t sleep at all last night,” Jack said in lue of an apology. “By this afternoon he’ll be much more tolerable.”

“Oh dear. I hope he gets his rest. It took Clint a few trips to get himself comfortable here.”

Jack gathered Brock in his arms who was still playing deaf and blind and going over his mantra “can’t see, can’t hear, can’t say sorry”. Clint watched them leave and looked at Phil. “You think adding him to the mix will make us get along better?”

Maybe Clint was resistant to change and to new people but his concerns felt more valid than just that. Brock had kicked him which was not nice. It wasn’t a good meeting at all! 

“He’s very sweet when he’s properly rested,” Phil replied which Clint had to snort at. 

Brock Rumlow was a lot of things on base. He was loud and he able to think of creative swears that Clint couldn’t. He could drink with the best of them and fight like there was no tomorrow. No part of him even hinted that his classification would be a Little. 

“You’ll see,” Phil said. “Now eat your breakfast.”


	2. sticks and stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having another Little on base has Clint worried about his standing with Steve. He’s determined to make sure that Steve will like him better than Brock. 
> 
> Things don’t go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I couldn’t get good guy Brock out of my head so I thought I’d make their story a little bit longer. Hopefully you guys like it!

Clint was all for discretion — it was a huge part of being a spy, after all. But since his time on the Bus and the introduction to Brock Rumlow, he had trouble seeing the hardass Commander everyone else did. He had a way of deeming himself exempt from the rules, so when Clint caught sight of the permanent marker colored perfectly where the class colors were, he wasn’t exactly surprised. 

Clint wasn’t sure what to make of it. He saw him in the mess hall a few times, cracking an occasional smile with the rest of Strike team delta. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He was smaller than Jack Rollins who always seemed to hover around him. He’d never noticed Jack’s presence before but now he was actually looking for it, it was plain as day. 

“What’s got your attention?” 

Steve was eating lunch with him. Or Steve was eating and Clint was occasionally dipping his spoon in his mashed potatoes, staring across the room. 

“You’re good at knowing people are…Little, right?” Clint asked, the tips of his ears flushing a bit.

“I like to think so. Why?” 

Clint chewed his bottom lip a moment, weighing the risk of mentioning it to Steve. Rumlow could kick his ass and should he find out Clint was blabbing about things he really had no business blabbing about, that was exactly what would happen. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice dropped and he put a hand on Clint’s back.

Before the badges he would have shrugged it off but now the reassurance felt nice. 

“Rumlow.” Clint finally said.

“What about him? He hasn’t been hassling you has he? He’s not a bad guy, not really, he’s just...rough around the edges.” 

“No,” Clint shook his head and stabbed his potatoes again. “I saw him on the Bus.”

“And you think he’s a Little?” 

“I know he is.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, following Clint’s line of sight. They both studied the commander who was none the wiser. “Is he unchaperoned?” 

Clint held back a sigh of exasperation. Steve was fixating on the wrong thing. Brock hid it so damn well...why couldn’t Clint be more like him? He had even coasted beneath Steve’s radar and Clint hadn’t lasted five damn minutes. 

“No,” Clint drawled moodily. “Rollins is his Caretaker.”

“Oh,” Steve seemed surprised for a minute before he turned his attention back to his lunch. “What’s bothering you?”

“He acts so Big. Why can’t I?”

“You do,” Steve said immediately. “A lot of people here were very surprised.”

“I shoulda Sharpied out my badge color too,” Clint was suddenly less distressed and more frustrated that Brock was clearly more clever than him. “He kicked me y’know. He didn’t even say sorry.” 

“That definitely wasn’t nice.” Steve agreed. “I’m sure next time you two play it’ll be better.”

“I don’t want to play with him again,” Clint said, alarmed. “He’s mean.”

“Maybe it was just a bad day,” Steve said, exactly as Clint expected.

A new fear struck him. What if Steve decided he liked Brock better than he liked Clint? With narrowed eyes he watch Rumlow takes a swig of his water. A normal bottle, not one with a squirt top like Clint had sitting beside a carton of strawberry milk. 

And like that, Clint’s whole day was ruined.

[OoOoOoO]

“Where’s Steve?”

Phil was, as usual, working in his office. It had become part of their nightly schedule, for better or for worse. Phil would drive them home, linger just long enough to make sure Clint wasn’t on the verge of regression, and then disappear until dinner time. Clint didn’t mind. He would spend his evenings with Nat or in the range. 

Sometimes Tony had new weapons to test out and then it was a good thing Phil was busy because he wouldn’t have allowed it.

But tonight he felt uneasy. Steve went on missions with team delta, he would spend time with Brock alone and what if he decided he liked him best? That just wasn’t fair at all! Clint had to make sure that Steve would like him best. 

“Captain Rogers is running laps around the track.”

Clint didn’t want to bug him, he really didn’t, but this was important. He took the elevator, antsy and feeling a bit more Little than he had prior but he wasn’t really Little. Clint never pretended be, not until today, but he had a good reason so he figured it was okay. 

It was only Steve in the gym, running with headphones in. He preferred audiobooks to music and used it to deepen his understanding of what he had missed while in the ice. Clint had heard it a few times while they baked together. (well, Steve baked. Clint mostly got into stuff and tried to eat raw dough and egg shells)

Clint sat down, criss-cross-applesauce, and waited and waited and waited. He waited until he was truly bored to tears before Steve finally stopped and started toward the elevator to go back to the gym floor. He seemed surprised to see Clint, quickly pulling out the ear buds with worry wrinkled across his forehead. 

“Hey Clint,” he said. “What’s up?”

“I wanna watch a movie with you.” Clint tried to use his Littlest voice, praying Steve wouldn’t see through his attempt.

“Oh…” Steve glanced at his wrist watch, the old fashion kind with hands instead of the SmartStark ones Tony had given out. “Well I have a few things I have to prepare for tomorrow if you don’t my mind me puttering around for a bit.”

Clint understood that. Shield kept the Man with a Plan busy and he felt bad as he shook his adamantly. “No,” he whined. “You gotta hold me!”

Steve pursed his lips, eyeing his watch and Clint mustered up his absolute best puppy eyes, pouting his bottom lip for an added level of effect. His efforts weren’t all for naught because Steve smiled at him. 

“It’s okay, I’ll just do it later. Need a hand up?” Steve extended his hand as he offered and Clint nearly accepted before he remembered that he wouldn’t do that if he was Little.

“Carry me,” he demanded even though it felt a bit demeaning. 

Big Clint typically wouldn’t stand for such things, hellbent on his own independence. But it was worth it if it meant that Steve would be his and his only. He didn’t want to share him with Brock Rumlow who was mean and didn’t ever say sorry. Who was smarter than him and much braver because he didn’t follow the rules. 

It was important; very very very important.

Steve looked surprised, blue eyes widening a bit before that warm look came back. Clint’s heart rate slowed as he realized that he hadn’t been found out. He was scooped up with ease, like he didn’t weigh a thing. He probably didn’t for Steve with his super soldier strength. Clint always wondered what it must be like. Maybe if Tony figured out how to make it Phil would give Clint the serum too. Or maybe it didn’t work on Littles. Clint couldn’t be sure either way.

Steve carried him to the elevator and even let him push the button for Steve’s floor. Clint was pleased that his plan was working so well. Steve’s floor was the same as always, old stuff placed here and there. A record player and bookshelf full of records and dusty old books Clint had absolutely no interest in even touching. Little trinkets lined the shelves and the only thing in the entire apartment that reminded Clint he hadn’t somehow gone back in time was the TV mounted across from the couch, which, Clint suspected, was for him and him alone. That made Clint feel a bit more special.

Brock would never see the inside of Steve’s apartment and Clint had his very own room there!

Steve set him down on the couch and picked up the remote sitting beside an antique lamp with stained glass. His apartment decor would have been tacky if it hadn’t been Steve’s. Since he came from the forties and all, he was well justified. 

Steve sat down beside him and Clint didn’t hesitate in climbing right beside him so they were side by side and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve scrolled through the movies, reading out the titles. 

“101 Dalmatians,” Clint said as soon as Steve read the title. It was the live action one which was far better than the animated one in Clint’s opinion. 

Again Steve hesitated like Clint had said something obscure but he knew that the Little version of his must have also loved dogs. There was no doubt in his mind. And the Little version of him had taste, of course. They were the same person after all.

Steve selected the movie and it seemed to fly by. It had been months since Clint had seen it and it was every bit as good as he remembered. When the credits began to roll, Steve flicked the TV off much to Clint’s surprise. 

“Alright Clint, what’s going on?” 

Clint had a feeling Steve knew that he wasn’t Little. “Nothing,” he started to fidgit full of nervous energy. “I just...wanted to watch a movie.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Is it something to do with our conversation at lunch?”

Clint scowled despite trying not to. He’d been had and he wasn’t happy about it but there was no point in keeping up this charade now. “You have to like me best.” He finally said. “You have to.”

Steve looked surprised. “You think I’m going to like Rumlow more than you?” 

Clint’s frown only deepened. It was his fault after that all, he’d told Steve what Brock’s classification was and risked losing Steve. He was so dumb, Steve would prefer Brock for that alone! 

“You go on missions with him all the time.”

Steve smiled a bit. “Not all the time, Clint. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, when I go on Shield operations it’s usually with Brock’s team but he’s commanding it. He’s Big through it all and I’m certain he wouldn’t like to be treated like he’s Little.”

Maybe…maybe Clint had jumped the gun a bit but… “What about on base? What if he becomes Little on accident?”

Steve hummed looking thoughtful. “Well, it wouldn’t be very nice of me not to help him but you said Jack is his caretaker? He’s also the second in command so he’ll always be there to take care of Brock. I don’t think I’ll be needed.”

That made sense, why hadn’t Clint thought of that? He frowned regardless. There was always a chance that Jack would be away and Steve had to be his Caregiver and he didn’t want that. Of course he knew how selfish that was but feelings were never completely rational. 

“I’m sorry that I made you watch a movie with me when you had stuff you needed to do,” Clint looked down in shame as he apologized. It had been a poorly thought through idea and now that it was over he just felt guilty. 

“It’s okay,” Steve gave his knee a squeeze. “I don’t sleep much anyway, I have plenty of time.”

Clint sighed quietly, the next question weighing heavy on his mind. Phil expected honesty. When Clint told fibs when he was Little he’d be stuck in the corner before receiving a very stern lecture about how Daddy will not stand for it. When Clint lied at work he was stuck on desk duty for two whole weeks because Phil needed to be able to trust him. Both punishments were very little fun so Clint was always as honest as he could be. 

But acting Little and try to deceive a member of the Initiative was no doubt a very big deal. They were a team, they relied on trust. Would Steve still trust him? 

“Are you… Are gonna tell Phil what I did?”

Clint busied himself, picking at a small fray in his jeans. He had a feeling they would end up vanishing from the wash; Phil was good like that, always intent on keeping Clint as neat, clean and comfortable as possible. 

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Do you think I should?”

Clint shrugged his shoulders, dejected and maybe a bit grumpy. He wasn’t grumpy at Steve of course, he was mad at himself for being so damn stupid all the time. Why did they even want him on the team? 

“I think we should decide together. If you think that Phil should know about it?”

Clint wanted to say no but he knew that Phil would want to know. He knew the guilt would eat at him for hiding something from him. 

“I guesso,” Clint mumbled. 

“Then you should tell him,” Steve said. “And you made a very good decision. I’m sure that’ll be in your favor.”

Clint snorted quietly. “It’ll help when I’m stuck in the corner all night.”

Steve smiled warmly at him. “I think if you explain it he’ll understand that it was an idea that came from Little you. I’m sure he‘ll be more lenient.”

Clint wasn’t sure. Still, he stood up because he’d imposed on Steve too much already. The look Steve directed at him was reassuring and Clint appreciated that, even if he was dreading what Phil would say. 

He considered making a detour to the lab and see if there’s something new Tony was busy working on. But he didn’t. There was no point in delaying the inevitable after all. The leafy green plant by their door was regrowing its leaves. They weren’t quite as big as they were when he plucked them all off but Clint was glad he hadn’t done any permanent damage to them. Clint figured that he killed enough as is without adding plants to his assassination list.

Admittedly he dragged his feet a bit as he walked into the apartment. He made a point to check all the rooms he knew Phil wouldn’t be in before he walked down the hallway towards the door that was slightly ajar. 

Clint knocked on the doorframe, something he rarely remembered to do. 

“Come in,” Phil called.

Clint was beginning to reconsider as he slowly opened the door and slowly walked towards Phil. He closed his laptop, directing his full attention towards Clint. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Phil could read him better than he could read himself. Even if Clint had wanted to lie, he wouldn’t have gotten away with it for long. “I did something bad but I had to.” Clint began, the reasons for doing that bad thing at the very tip of his tongue.

“How about you tell me what you did and then give me your justifications.” Phil cut in. 

He didn’t sound mad, he was never really mad, but he looked disappointed, corners of his mouth pulled downward. 

Clint took a deep breath. “I pretended to be Little so I could watch a movie with Steve,” Clint said just as quickly as he could. 

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I need to be his favorite! He goes on missions with Rumlow and-and what if he decides he likes him better?” Clint didn’t mean to sound so choked up, especially after Steve had given him so much reassurance. 

Phil was quiet a moment, clearly mulling it over. “I take it Steve saw through it?”

“I guesso,” Clint scuffed the tip of his shoe on the floor. 

“I know it’s not easy to share people, Clint. In the beginning I didn’t want to share you with Steve and he was my childhood idol. Even now, sometimes I get a little jealous. It’s human.”

Clint wasn’t exactly convinced but it sounded like it would take time for him to believe Steve wouldn’t just forget about him. 

“So...I’m not in trouble?”

“I didn’t say that. Have you apologized to Steve?”

Clint bobbed his head in confirmation. Phil looked pensive. “I think that you should write a letter apologizing to him as well.”

Clint absolutely despised any type of paperwork and a letter sounded like torture. 

“Can’t I just sit in the corner?” Clint asked glumly. 

“Unfortunately not. I’ll get your laptop set up across from me, just in case you need some help.”

Clint heaved a sigh but obediently plopped down in the chair opposite the desk. It was used when Clint was Little and Phil had work to do. He would color or play with clay or puzzles while Phil worked. Those sounded much more fun than typing up a letter but unfortunately that was the punishment. 

Deep down Clint felt better though. He didn’t like to lie to Phil. 

[oOoOoOoO]

Brock Rumlow was Clint’s sole focus when he arrived at the Trisk. Clint found him in the mess hall, accompanied by Jack Rollins, getting coffee. They seemed to be discussing something work related because Rumlow had his usual tough guy scowl. Clint wondered if it was a look he’d perfected or if his Little side and Big side were just polar opposites.

Clint had tried to recruit Phil into his personal espionage case but he wasn’t too interested and said if he had questions he should just ask. Phil clearly had forgotten about the purpose of undercover work. 

He was sitting with Steve, who was enjoying his second breakfast of the sticky goop they called oatmeal, sneaking looks across the room where they had sat down. He didn’t know what they were talking about but he was curious. Getting closer would have jeopardized his investigation of course. 

For a moment the scowl vanished and Brock looked a bit sad but it was gone in an instant, Brock waving his hand nonchalantly. Clint still wasn’t certain what to make of it; Brock seemed to treat Jack as he always had — like a teammate and a friend. 

Jack wasn’t insisting he eat some breakfast with his coffee, he hadn’t insisted on pouring the sugar because Brock liked to pour as much as possible in. It shouldn’t have felt so personal but it did. Why was Brock so… 

Clint couldn’t put his finger on it but it bothered him. “I don’t think people like to be stared at.” Steve reminded him gently and Clint just rolled his eyes. “If you want to talk to him, his office on LL3.”

Clint’s head whipped around. “He gets his own office?”

“He’s a commander,” Steve reminded him as gently as possible.

“Well I’m an Avenger! Shouldn’t I get my own office?”

“Don’t you like sharing with Natasha?”

Clint did but that wasn’t the point at all. “Is it a big office?” Clint grumbled.

“It’s average, nothing special. I’ve only been in it a handful of times though.”

Steve was trying to make him feel better but failing epically. “Doesn’t Jack have to watch him?”

“Phil doesn’t watch you when you’re Big,” Steve reminded him unhelpfully. “I have to say that spying on him won’t last too long. There’s a reason he commands a Strike team.”

Clint felt increasingly frustrated.

He neglected his paperwork, instead shadowing Brock from a conference room to the gym where he was sparring with new recruits. Jack was infrequently around him. He had been there in the gym, impassive like he wasn’t Brock’s caregiver and that he wasn’t worried Brock could get hurt. He knew he was riding the line between Big and Little because this was certainly a Little’s mission but he needed to use his Big skills to accomplish it. 

Clint was feeling pretty dang proud of his undercover skills until a fresh faced agent walked up to him and said, “Commander Rumlow needs to see you in his office.”

Clint’s eyes went wide as saucers, pride draining to dread. His self esteem crumbled further. Brock was still better than him. It just wasn’t fair. He knew there was no denying it as he sulked to the elevator and, as Steve had said, hit LL3. 

It was less busy than the main floor and Clint still couldn’t believe he’d lost him. Brock had stepped into a restroom and Clint had been waiting for him to come back out. How in the world had he made it back to his office? 

Agents were still bustling through the halls and Clint read the name plated beside each door. When he made it to Rumlow's office, his face twisted up in unhappiness. Without bothering to knock Clint swung the door open. 

Rumlow looked up from his computer screen. “Close the door.”

“You’re not my handler,” Clint bit, admittedly childishly. He was still riding that line and he felt he could tip either way.

Brock rolled his. “Fucksake, Barton. Just close the fucking door.”

Those were bad words that Clint was only allowed to say in the heat of battle. He obediently swung the door shut however, shuffling his feet in place. Silence sat between them, thick enough to slice with a knife, but Clint refused to speak first. 

“Wanna tell me why you’re stalking me?” Brock leaned back in his chair, brown eyes trained on him. 

Clint huffed out a breath and like that, lost that fragile boundary. He was Little and he was mad. 

“Steve isn’t yours. He doesn’t even like you, I bet! I told him that you’re mean mean mean and that you kick me and he says you’re not nice!”

Before Clint’s rant Brock had the perfect poker face, free of anger or curiousity or annoyance. But then he was frowning and looking at the wall. It may have been Brock trying to stay Big but Clint was just angry that Brock didn’t care. 

“You didn’t even ‘pologize!” Clint added, growing more irate. 

Brock didn’t look away from the wall but he reached for the phone and hit a button. After a moment Brock said, “I need you,” and put the phone back on the cradle with very little care. 

Clint had no idea what to expect but either way he was mad mad mad.


	3. competency and sleepovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint faces the consequences of his actions and has a sleepover with an unlikely friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd all mistakes are my own

If Clint had been Big, or at least in a bigger frame of mind, he would have fully expected Jack to appear. But he wasn’t so his arrival was jarring and just a little scary. 

“Hey,” Jack’s voice was loud before he took stock of the room and softened his voice considerably. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?”

Clint shuffled backwards until his heels bumped the wastebasket and it tilted dangerously. Clint sniffled a bit, overwhelmed and frustrated. 

“He was   
,” Brock’s voice had dropped down to squeaky frustration, somewhere between imposing and whining. 

“No,” Clint argued, shaking his head hard. “Steve doesn’t like him and he-he’s mad about it.”

“Steve likes me! He likes me Daddy, doesn’t he?” Brock looked over the desk at Jack, his brown eyes shiny with tears. 

“I’m sure he likes you, buddy.”

“He doesn’t!” Clint’s voice was too loud for such a small space. “He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”

Brock began to cry, big silent tears and his shoulders shuddered with suppressed sobs. Immediately Jack stepped around the desk and knelt down to hug him tightly. 

“Cap’ ‘erica doesn’t like me,” Brock hiccuped quietly. 

Seeing people cry always made Clint sad and knowing that he made them cry was even worse. His Daddy was gonna be mad. 

Phil came to collect him shortly afterward, shoulders stiff and his smile a bit tight as he thanked Jack for contacting him. Clint was feeling a smidge bigger but more than that, he felt guilty. The elevator ride was quiet and Clint figured it was best to keep quiet until they went back to Phil’s office. 

“Clinton Barton, what in the world were you thinking?” Phil demanded, arms folded over his chest. “You really upset a senior agent over what, exactly?”

“Steve has to like me best.”

Phil sighed heavily. “We talked about this Clint. You need to share the people in your life.”

“But I don’t want to share you or Steve!”

“I think you need some corner time to think.”

Clint hated corner time. He wanted Chirp and Blanket but they were at home. “Daddy, no.”

“Yes Clint. What you did today is not okay. It could have gotten you both benched for a few weeks, do you understand?”

“Gotta...sit on a bench?”

Phil quickly adjusted the point to his age level. “You would have to sit in timeout for a long time. Even longer you will be right now.” 

Clint began to cry. It wasn’t fair. Steve was his, he didn’t want to share him with anyone and especially not with Brock who was mean and kicked him. Steve even said he wasn’t nice for doing it. Clint tried to explain that but Phil took his hand and walked him to the couch. “Don’t move until I tell you to get up.” 

Clint sat there. And sat there. And sat there some more. It was boring. “Daddy,” he began.

“No, you’re not getting up until we go home.” 

Tears welled up his eyes. It wasn’t fair. Steve had said Brock was mean. Why was he in the corner? Thankfully it seemed daddy was only finishing up work and taking home. Blanket and Chirp were there and maybe even Steve too. Steve could explain. Daddy would listen to him. 

Phil got to his feet, stomach weighing heavily. Never did he think he’d be the one to report something like this. He knew Nick wouldn’t do anything too drastic, he trusted Phil’s judgement. He was questioning his judgement however. He should have known his fascination had him on the edge of regression. But he hadn’t and that was concerning. If he couldn’t tell when Clint was getting little what was he good for? And who could he share that fear with? He couldn’t shrug off this incident. If it could happen at work who’s to say it wouldn’t happen in the field? Clint could get hurt. He could hurt someone else. The idea of a weapon in his hands anytime soon was slim to absolutely none. He knew how Big Clint was going to react; this would be an argument worse than any other they’d shared. And Phil really, really wasn’t looking forward to it. 

He closed his laptop, pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Clint was looking at him, blue eyes wide and young. “It’s time to go home now, Clint.” 

He slipped off the couch immediately. “Steve doesn’t -- ”

“No more of that,” Phil said firmly. 

Clint pushed out his bottom lip but didn’t argue. He took Phil’s hand and they went down the back exit to avoid many people seeing Hawkeye in such a vulnerable state. Phil knew exactly how Clint would feel about that. Clint was buckled into the back seat and on the ride home asked for an ice cream cone. “You haven’t earned a treat today, Clint.” 

Clint started to cry. Phil tried not to panic at how young he was so easily. At the tower he went back to the corner for ten minutes before he released. He was upset with Phil, skulking to his room without asking for some much as a snack. Phil went to his office, now working from home, and his insides iced up when he saw the email he sent Nick had been forwarded to HR. With a clenched jaw and wrongful anger he emailed Nick again, a short: I would have appreciated notice.

He didn’t get much time to stress over his reaction: you know that you wanted me to. 

The fact he was right gutted him to the core. He was scared, any Caregiver would be scared. But he couldn’t help but feel like he’d gone over Rollins’ head. He wasn’t sure he’d appreciate it. And he knew that Brock would be furious. He was, hands down, one of the fiercest littles he’d met and to even be questioned would offend him. And with good reason. A competency concern was nothing to scoff at. It was serious. It was a black mark that couldn’t be erased. And HR took it seriously, especially after badges. Phil scrubbed his hand over his face. Phil wasn’t sure if he was happy Clint was little right now. It would give him time to find a way to cushion it for him. Maybe work a little magic and turn in a favor to two. But that felt wrong. He wasn’t going to cheat the system for the sake of Clint’s feelings, especially when the measure was to keep him safe. He wished he had someone to talk to about it. Steve was still on base and Phil worried telling him would just burden the super soldier. While it sounded nice to share the burden with someone it was selfish. 

He was Clint’s caregiver. This was why he was here. To protect him, even if that means protecting him from himself. He got up and leaned against the doorframe watching Clint, shuffling his cows from one pen to another, a train track circling the farm set. He was content, happy. Was Clint losing his grip between headspaces? And if he was, what could Phil do to save him from that? 

“Daddy, play with me?” 

Phil smiled, thin and tired. “Of course, little bird.” 

Not long after he sat Clint crawled into his lap and rested his forehead on his neck. “‘m sorry I was a bad boy.” 

“You’re not a bad boy, you just… You just made bad choices.” 

“I’ll make gooder choices ‘morrow.” 

Phil had no idea what tomorrow would bring so he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I know you will buddy. You’re daddy’s good boy.” 

“Daddy’s big good boy.” Clint corrected.

His smile was easy this time. “Yes, daddy’s big good boy.” 

Clint hummed, content, and then went back to the toys. For today things could be as they’re meant to. Tomorrow… Phil couldn’t be certain. 

[OoOoOoO]

“I’m sorry Phil. I really am. I won’t -- it won’t happen again.” 

“Clint, I know -- ”

“I’ll even get my reports in on time. I don’t even need help. I-I… Please, Phil. Please don’t make me do this.” 

Phil wanted to hug him, to protect him from everything being thrown his way. Tell him that the testing exercises were easy to beat and that he wouldn’t struggle. But Phil wasn’t certain of that. He wasn’t certain of several things he now realized. Maybe this has been a long time coming. Maybe it should have a problem the day he fell asleep at the conference table. Maybe it should have been when he had an accident in his office. Phil suddenly realized he’d failed him. That all this time it’d been right in front of him but he’d blinded himself to it, too afraid to hurt Clint. But in the process he’d hurt Clint more than intended. And that broke his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry Clint.” 

His eyes were rimmed in red and he closed his eyes tightly. “What if I can’t,” Clint whispered, voice rough. 

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it,” Phil said instead of saying that he’d be hanging up his bow and turning in his badge. He took his hands in his and Clint cracked open a red eye. “Just give it you’re all, Clint.” 

He almost called him little bird but the last thing he wanted was to make him feel smaller than he already seemed. He was on the edge and Phil didn’t know if he’d be able to muscle himself over. With another ragged deep breath he nodded his head. Phil was just grateful he didn’t blame him. He was surprisingly understanding until he learned about the examination. He’d expected to be benched, as Phil had expected, but Fury had made a judgement call and maybe it was a good thing. An outsider view had taken it seriously, as it should have been. 

Brock had gone in first but Rollins didn’t seem the least bit concerned, scrolling through his cellphone. Another tense ten minutes passed. Rollins got his feet, stepped out and returned with a Coke from the machine down the hall. He cracked it open, took a drink and glanced at them. 

“I hear it sounds harder than it is,” he said with a friendly smile. 

“Really?” 

“Don’t quote me on it but it’s what I’ve been told.” 

That seemed to settle Clint a bit, knee slowing its bouncing. The walls of the waiting room were adorned in equal pay, equal opportunity, union, and workplace harassment memorabilia. Phil wished he could be as relaxed and confident as agent Rollins did but… His faith in Clint passing was exceptionally low and he felt guilty for that. As his caregiver he should have been rooting him on -- and he was -- but he was also mentally rehearsing a conversation to calm him. The door opened, startling all of them, including Rollins who almost spilled his Coke. Maybe he was more edge than Phil had read his body language as. 

The examiner was a portly woman with a dimpled smile and friendly brown eyes. “I’ll draw up my report and you’ll be cleared to go back to work tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Brock muttered looking annoyed. He caught Clint’s eye and surprisingly offered a sincere, “Good luck. It’s not so bad.” 

“Thanks Rumlow.” 

“No problem.” 

The door closed and then it was just Phil, Clint and the Examiner. “Hi, my name is Penny. You’re Clint Barton, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” 

“It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. An Avenger? That must be very exciting.” 

Phil knew it was disarming technique, a way to build rapport quickly. Clint knew better than to fall for that. Phil hoped at least. “It’s pretty neat, yeah.” 

Oh no. Phil’s stomach sunk. “I bet. How about you come tell me about it in here? Standard practices you know. I’m sure agent Coulson could keep himself entertained. There’s a vending machine down the hallway. It shouldn’t take much longer than thirty minutes.” 

“Thirty minutes?” balked Clint. “That’s like forever. Isn’t there a faster way to do it.” 

“I know it seems long Clint, and I am sorry. We can take breaks as we go. If you find yourself getting too bored of the questions we’ll have a little rest.” 

Phil hoped he wouldn’t use it. Clint was already being examined. “Well… I guess.” 

“Good. Feel free to say bye to your caretaker and we’ll get started.” 

Clint shuffled a bit in place and turned to lift a hesitant hand. “Bye Phil.” 

“Goodbye Clint.” Phil said it hurt. He was saying goodbye to agent Barton, to the fierce protector of the underdog. He was saying goodbye to Hawkeye. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

Phil spent the next forty five minutes hashing out a mental conversation, trying to anticipate any reaction Clint would have and counter it with something comforting. There wasn’t a way to wrap him up and make him feel better. It would be a long road. A long rocky, painful road and Phil wasn’t ready to take the journey. He never would be. The door opened and Clint looked well relaxed. He’d done it, hadn’t he? He’d managed to pass it and everything would be okay? Right? 

“Well I’m going to draw up my report and we’ll get back to you.” 

Clint seemed puzzled. “But you told Brock he could go back tomorrow.” 

“I know. Sometimes writing reports takes a really long time and I think you could with a rest. Being an Avenger must be very hard work.” 

“Well, we haven’t assembled for like a month ‘cos we had to go on vacation. But soon. Hopefully.” 

He hadn’t.

[OoOoOoO]

“Paperwork takes forever,” Clint groaned as he flopped onto the couch. 

Natasha looked over her book. “What kind of paperwork?” 

Oh right. Clint hadn’t told anyone about the exam. The last thing he wanted was for people to get the wrong idea. “I kinda got in it with Rumlow and we both got kinda small and Fury was being Fury and decided we both needed an exam. It’s no big deal.” 

Natasha frowned a moment and then it was gone. “Sounds boring.” 

“It was. Hey, want to go get some pizza?” 

“I have lunch plans with Bruce.” 

“Yeah what’s the deal with that?” Clint sat up. “You and Bruce? Since when?” 

“Since we both decided we were interested.” 

Clint stuck out his tongue. “Gross. Maybe Steve will go.” 

“Have you asked Phil?” 

“He’ll make me get a side salad or something green on my pizza. The only healthy thing allowed is pineapples.” 

“I see. Well I’m trying to read so if you wouldn’t mind.” 

Clint frowned. “You never want to hang out lately.” 

“I’m just busy, Barton. We’ll go to the range together tonight.” 

That was better than nothing so Clint agreed. He didn’t get a chance to go to Steve's floor because Jarvis told him that Phil wanted him to come back to the floor. He was thrilled, hoping the paperwork had finally gone through and he could get back to work. But as he walked through the door he caught sight of visitors. Rumlow and Rollins. 

Rumlow was holding a green and gray backpack to his chest and had a black one on his shoulders, looking exceptionally unhappy. 

“Clint, Jack has to go on a trip for work so I thought that it would be fun to have you two spend some time together.” 

Clint was big so he frowned in confusion. But there was a twinge in his gut at the idea of Phil taking care of a little that wasn’t him. 

“I guess,” he muttered. It wasn’t like he could say no, not with the plan clearly in place. It would have been ince to have some warning. “Hey Brock.” 

Clint seemed to have aged him up because the scowl was more grown up now. “Jack, I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” 

“You have a schedule. I’m not risking it. Besides, it’ll help get you two over your little tiff.” Rollins’ watch beeped. “Be good. I’ll call you when I can.” 

“It’s stupid they’re not letting me run the op just because usually take this week off. Istanbul is my area of expertise.” 

“Next time.” 

“You bet your ass next time,” Brock grumbled. “Fine, go. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean you get to slack.” 

It was strange for Clint to see a little so demanding over their caretaker. It was weird but also a bit refreshing. “Be good,” Jack said firmly. “Thank you Phil.” 

“You’re very welcome.” 

When Jack left an awkward silence settled between them. “I was going to make grilled cheese. How many would you like Brock?” 

The commander frowned and then grudgingly said, “Two.” 

Clint felt the urge to one up him. “I want three.” 

“You’re not going to eat three Clint. How about you show him your room?” 

Clint looked at the grumpy man and then took a deep breath. “Uh, okay.” 

Brock took his shoes and followed Clint through the living room and into the hallway. Then, he stood guard in front of the door. “They’re my toys and you have to ask first.” 

Brock narrowed his eyes. “I brought my own so I don’t have to play with your baby ones.” 

Clint hissed in a breath in offense. He couldn’t think of anything to say in response so he pushed open his door Brock looked around his room. His eyes landed on the train set and farm set Clint had yet to pick up. “You like trains?” 

“...Yes,” Clint’s eyes narrowed in preparation for an insult. 

“I like trains too.” 

“Oh.” Clint hadn’t expected that. He looked at the little bag. It was too small to have a train set in it. “You can play with it if you want.” 

Brock’s face lit up in surprise. “Really?” 

“Uh-uh. Umm… What toys did you bring.” 

“Just my dinos.” 

“Can I see them?” 

Brock knelt down and rummaged through the green and grey bag for heavy dinosaurs that’d sifted to the bottom. He pulled his hand out with a huff of annoyance and upturned the bag. Toys came spilling, dinosaurs, match box cars and big legos all tumbling to the floor. A stuffed dog with bones on it rolled to Clint’s feet. He picked it up and Brock froze. 

“Gimme Crossbones.” 

“Crossbones?” 

“That’s his name. Now give him back!” Brock said angrily. 

Taken by surprise Clint did so and he was snatched away and pressed to his chest. “You can’t touch him. Just me. Daddy got it for me.” 

Clint could understand that. He wouldn’t want people picking up Chirp. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Brock looked at him and then sniffled. “I wish he hadn’t gone away.” 

“When we’re on the Bus my daddy goes away. It makes me really sad but he always comes back. He’ll come back.” 

“What if he didn’t really go away? What if he just doesn’t love me anymore.” 

“He loves you! I promise.” 

Brock wiped his tears and set him aside. He picked up the dinosaurs and held them out. Clint started to feel guilty. “You can play with my toys,” Clint granted, taking a triceratop in his hands. 

They were nice and while Clint didn’t really like dinosaurs he thought he could play with them for Brock. Because he was sad and Clint didn’t like when people were sad. He didn’t like the idea of Steve liking Brock but it wasn’t nice of him to say he didn’t. 

“Steve does like you. I was just mad.” 

“Daddy said you got bitten by a jealousy bug.” Brock looked at him. “I guess it decided to stop biting.” 

“I got bit by a bug?” 

“Yeah-huh. Daddy said so.” 

Alarmed Clint threw down his toys and rushed into the kitchen crying. Phil turned off the burner and turned him. “Clint? Clint what’s wrong?” 

“Brock’s daddy says I’m being bitten by bugs.” 

“Bugs?” 

“Bugs!”

Brock came padding in looking confused. “Jealousy bugs,” Brock said with a solemn nod. 

“Oh.” Phil took Clint’s face in his hand. “It’s just a saying, little bird. It means you were feeling jealous.” 

“It does?” 

“It does.” 

“Sorry I scared you,” Brock said quietly. “Didn’t know you were scared of bugs.” 

“I’m not scared!” Clint snapped. “I just don’t wanna get bit.” 

“Once I got stung by a wasp.” Brock said and like that conversation took a one-eighty turn and Phil was no longer needed. 

The boys were herded to the table where they discussed all their various injuries (as littles, not in the field). Clint’s were all in-house because he so rarely ventured outside. Brock had fallen off the monkey bars, couch, table and kitchen counters, bumped his head on the coffee table, TV, cabinets and a door, been stung by a wasp and chased by geese. It sounded like he kept Rollins on his toes. Clint certainly kept Phil on his. Them playing well was a good sign. Maybe he could get over his jealousy. 

But suddenly his jealousy seemed like a very small issue. Especially with the report on its way back to Fury. 

But regardless of what came of it, they would face it together.


End file.
